


Starfire

by VengeanceOfNyx



Category: Original Work, Starfire- Original Work
Genre: Character with DID, Enby Character, First work - Freeform, Gen, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, Other, tw: deadnaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VengeanceOfNyx/pseuds/VengeanceOfNyx
Summary: What happens when stars cross and fate tries to push three friends into the midst of chaos
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story! I’ve been working on/ rewriting this story for coming on 4 years and updates will be slow due to rewriting and having to work around my college schedule... I hope you enjoy!

As joyous laughter slowly leaves the air from the people leaving across the estate the tall boy flits about in the blackness of night that covers him as a shroud. The lanky male has long stringy blond hair that reaches the middle of his back and glints like spun gold in the moonlight. He hasn't quite grown out of his impish face, causing many to be wary of what he appears to be planning. The teen is searching earnestly for his friend to warn them not to use their powers, for it could endanger their whole crew. The human flame-thrower had disappeared into the night after their act and must be warned; for their safety and the safety of all in the general vicinity that small child must be found. 

“BERWALD WHERE ARE YOU!” a voice hollers out from the forest at the back lawn of the looming estate, “I NEED TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING! IT’S IMPORTANT! BER!”

Hidden within the constricting blackness of twilight and trees surrounding the darkened manor, a petite figure emerges. All you could hear was the sound of crisp red and orange leaves crunching underfoot as the pair ran for each other, the smaller one tackling Berwald into a hug as the pair collapsed onto the dry grass and crinkling maple leaves. 

“Fiaren where have you been!” The blond boy began aggressively whispering to his friend, “I've been looking all over for you!” 

Worry was clearly evident behind the angered front put up by his voice and posture. Fiaren’s golden eyes burned like tiny suns, cutting through the inky darkness that suffocated them to look at Berwald owlishly before taking on a mischievous glint.

“I wanna show you the new trick I've been working on!”

Fiaren was obviously chomping at the bit to show off the stunt they planned, much to the chagrin of their taller masculine counterpart. Berwald knew that once Fiaren had a thought in their head the complete and utter bullheadedness they had would shine through until they achieved whatever glittering prize was sought by the tiny prankster and their devious plans. A spark cut through the night as the fire user brought a small flicker of flame into existence above their hand, quickly flourishing their exposed palm to change the shape of the flames to a small but elegant heart, beating to the rhythm echoing in their head as it flickered in the cold. Berwald smiled gently at his friend before opening his mouth, his compliment cut off by the small explosion that threw the two teens off their feet.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for kinda sorta dead naming that will be explained in the next chapter but here’s chapter 1 proper!!!

That's the last time I let Fiaren run off to set fires without checking in with me first! I know that sounds pretty bad out of context but I'll elaborate on that later. My name is Berwald Jaer and I work for Great Vern’s Circus of Fancies. I'm not one of his acts per say, I just help out our in-house magician Mayge. You could say that he saved me in his own strange sort of way. He gave me a purpose in this life and I've been his apprentice ever since I was 10. It's been six years since I went under his care and no day is like the next! An example of this would be today's ‘incident’ with Fiaren. We just repainted the manor where Mr. Vern hosts our shows; the fumes and chemicals in the air made for an easy setup for an explosion if the proper amount of heat is applied… and Fiaren still hasn't learned to control the heat of their flames. 

Fiaren is one of the newest additions to our little ‘family’ we have here and is our flame dancer. Mayge calls them a human flamethrower since they can't fully control their flames and when startled they rapidly go into a defensive mode. They are rather short for a 16 year old, with cropped short hair the shade of white chocolate, which is to say a yellowish white that is definitely not their actual hair color as it has grown out a bit to be a muddy shade. Not many of us know anything other than their nickname, Fiaren, and the only ones who know anything more about their past is me and Mayge.

I should explain who Mayge is. Mayge is the magician Mr. Vern brought in from ‘far off lands’. He has a penchant for playing mahjong, and has roped me into sessions that spread over several hours more often than I'd like to confess. Gliding as he steps around the manor his delicate aqua robe swishes around his ankles with every step he takes; with delicate hands attached to spindly fingers you would assume they belonged to an artist, but instead of painting or drawing on paper Mayge paints images on the air, swirling dragons and creatures you could only dream of floating across your vision. He sleeps most of the day and pretty much only comes out at night so he has been dubbed ‘the nocturnal spirit’ by Mr. Vern, whom we don't see much.

Now we are back in the makeshift infirmary Mr. Vern let Mayge and I build to treat the injuries of our companions. The walls are a sickly yellowed white, a stark contrast from the shaded red halls and marbled grey exoskeleton of the estate. There are sterilized white tables filling the room, a few accented with drops of blood and one charred around the edges from Fiaren’s last mishap. At least this time they didn't sustain any serious or severe injuries. Their aggressively cropped hair has burnt off in some places and their minuscule hands are coated in light burns, easily treatable. I'll have to get Angela to fix their clothes since a few large segments have been burnt off from the explosion. I'll bet Fiaren was messing with someone's caravan out back due to the grease stains and by the scent of perfume drowning out the natural woodsy scent of their demolished clothes it was probably Durans. 

Angela and Duran are our best trapeze act as well as the second in command here as shown by the elaborate dragon lotus tattoos they both have, proudly shown on Angela's shoulder and Duran’s calf. Angela is a tall, lithe woman of seemingly Indian descent. She has skin the color of caramel, hair dark as the richest dark chocolate, and unfortunately for those seeking her hand, is married to Duran. Duran is shorter than Angela by at least 10 inches and is Russian, his accent clouding his words and making him seem much more aggressive than he actually is. He would dare not hurt a fly unless it hurt his precious wife or those living amongst the crew. They are known for their ever amazing stunting and flair shown on and off the dance floor as well as living in what we call The Crimson Hallway. 

The Crimson Hallway is, quite obviously, a hall colored with paint as dark as blood. It's lined with a multitude of short beds but the only people who ever use them are Angela, Duran, and Caine. Caine is a small girl with skin as light and delicate as porcelain who is turning 18 soon. She dyed her hair a calming shade of lilac and had it cut into a pixie cut, and she usually follows Fiaren like a small lost puppy. She is our ‘tamer’, and even though she's still rather young for the job she has quite the skill with a whip. Mayge said he would send her here soon to help me patch up Fiaren since she is good at patching up burns and the like. A light groan echoes around the room as I turn to see Fiaren trying to get up to escape but failing miserably, heaving as the bandages on their chest shift around.

“You know you won't get far without treating the burns on your hands right” I say, lightly glaring at them as I tap my foot lightly on the tiled floor.

They groan sarcastically and rolled their pained golden-red eyes, trying weakly to limp along towards the door. Gliding forward I grabbed them by the waist, hoisted them up, and placed them back on their table. Fiaren is like a sibling to me, usual hair-pulling and all, so I can't stand seeing them hurt. I laid them down delicately and began to check their ankles and legs. If they were limping that meant at least something small was wrong, considering their acute pain tolerance. 

“What did you do to sprain your ankle? Be more careful!” I spoke sternly as the door behind me creaked open, a bundle of tangled lavender hair peeking through shyly.

Caine slowly tiptoed over by Fiaren, poking and prodding their ribs to make sure the bandages aren't hurting them before tending to the various burns littering their hands and torso. Slowly peeling off their chest bandages Caine delicately wrapped her arms around the now shivering form of Fiaren, chilled skin meeting the warm forest green sweater passed from the eldest to the younger. Cautious glances passed between Caine and I as Fiaren slipped on the baggy jacket and pressed their arms against their chest.

“Let me get you some new bandages and clothes” Caine’s voice fluttered breathlessly over the jarring silence to reach the rest of the group's ears as Fiaren looks down to stare at their bare feet.

She seemingly floated over to the door, Fiaren’s clothes in hand to deliver to Angela and retrieve a new undamaged set. After Caine left Fiaren slowly lifted their gaze to meet mine, gold orbs shimmering with tears, fear noticeable as their trembling continued. Sure they haven't been here for more than a year but they should at least trust me after this long. I look around making sure we're completely alone before I speak.

“I'm not going to hurt you. Just don't be so reckless next time Mikaela. We all care for you” … and there go the waterworks. 

They started sobbing uncontrollably, curling into a ball and clutching at the sweater they wore, tearing and clawing at the textured fabric clinging to their being. I gathered them in my arms, silently hushing them as I rocked back and forth. Slowly, they began to go from sobbing to just remaining hiccups as they calmed down from their panicked stupor. Snorting loudly Fiaren broke out of my arms and sighed heavily. 

“... please don't call me that again” they were basically whimpering in  
my direction. “Call me Fiaren. Please. Promise me”.

“I promise. I'm sorry Fiaren”.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to AllMyCrushesAreDead for being my beta reader for this chapter. It's a bit short but hey so am I and this took a while so have at it

The darkness that overtook the room is banished by the warm glow of a lantern as Caine returns, entering with a small wicker basket of garments that appear coarse by the wiry spindle of the brokered crochet piled at the top. Her gait is wide and swaying as she approaches the others: the smaller of the two curled in on themself up on the table whilst their hand dangles limply to be held by the taller, who sits with his legs crossed on the floor whilst cradling the smaller, darker hand in his own pale one.

“C’mon Ber. You need to get up so I can patch up our little fireball and get them back up and running”

The blond looks up from where his gaze was fixed on the floor, icy blues meeting rich chocolate brown ones before he begins to speak softly.

“Will you get me when you’re done? I have a feeling that there will be some trouble afterwards”

“Of course dear. Behind the sunflower portrait?”

He nods gently, front strands of hair hiding his face as he slowly stands; giving a gentle squeeze to the hand in his before he slinks to the door before gently closing it behind him, immediately being locked by Caine as she leans against it. Pushing off of it she leans down to sweep back up the basket before heading to her junior on the table, now unfurled from their panicked ball into a more calm and relaxed form draping legs off of the table to be examined.

“ You know it’s not safe to use your bandages like that dearest. You’ll crack your ribs again.”

“I know momma. Couldn’t help it.”

“I know sweetheart, but can we try to find a safer alternative after I wrap your ankle up? And I almost forgot, I brought you a sweater! Don’t tell Bear boy I took it for you”, a smile quirking up the corners of her mouth.

The other teens' eyes rise from their point on the floor, a watery smile beginning to light their face as warm wool gets passed from one to the other. The soft weight of it encompassed the flame-bringer in a comfort lost in the past few hours; like a hug from a departed friend that one yearned to see again, smelling of pine and hard work. A smell reminiscent of long walks through the pines of their old home after the heaviest of rainfalls, a heavy petrichor made even more comforting by the physical weight given to it’s form. The neck is much too wide for the small frame it is subsequently draped over. It drapes over a dark shoulder and drips its tincture below the fat of the arm folded against their body in its descent down the slopes of rolling espresso skin and pooling in their lap before the lavender-haired girl kneels before them. 

Ice-cold hands delicately maneuver around the sitting teens foot, delicately removing the stirrup segment of the starfire’s uniform before adjusting the strained muscles back into their proper position and wrapping them in coarse-cut linen bandages. Caine raises an arm to help the other down from the table, wrapping their arm around her neck before gently sweeping them into a bridal carry to carry them out to their bed in the crimson hallway upstairs whilst humming a comforting tune in a motherly alto that echoes in the darkened chambers of the mansion; a chorale between her voice with the whispering winds and creaking of the old oaken staircase. 

It doesn’t take the pair much time to reach the top, only to be heeding in their trip by a disappointed looking Duran and Angela sitting at the end of Fiaren’s elevated cot. Angela perched with grace on the end whilst Duran sat cross-legged and barefoot near the middle, both with a resting aura of omniscience to the situations around them as if one could feel that they somehow knew of everything that happened on the estate. The scarred teen was the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello you two! I just need to drop off our little spitfire so I can go get the bear from his master’s quarters. You don’t mind getting them all settled, right?”

Angela nods, not breaking eye contact as she collects Fiaren from Caine’s arms before she turns and speaks.

“We will have to talk later, Jeanine. This requires more eyes and hands than we previously thought”

The lighter air that had attempted to insert itself died out as Jeanine's face twisted in a more stern way.

“Of course Lotus. Just let me get Berwald and Mayge before we have our little talk, okay dear?”

Another nod from Angela sends Jeanine on her way to the end of the hall, slipping her fingers under the rightmost corner of a large oil painting of a grove of sunflowers to undo the latch keeping that side down. It swings open with a light creak and release of fresh air tinged with the scent of oolong before she swings her leg over the edge and closes the painting behind her.


End file.
